"Wait." Kellogg demanded his attention. "Here's this man Burnham--you don't know him, but he's as keen as they make 'em. He's on the track of some wonderful scheme for making illuminating gas from crude oil; if it goes through--if the invention's really practicable--it's bound to work a revolution. He's down in Washington now--left this afternoon to look up the patents. Now he needs me, to get the ear of the Standard Oil people, and I'll get you in there." "What right've you got to do that?" demanded Duncan. "What the dickens do I know about illuminating gas or crude oil? Burnham'd never thank you for the likes o' me." "But--thunder!--you can learn. All you need--." "Now see here, Harry!" Duncan gave him pause with a manner not to be denied. "Once and for all time understand I'm through having you recommend an incompetent--just because we're friends." "But, Harry--" "And I'm through living on you while I'm out of a job. That's final." "But, man--listen to me!--when we were at college--" "That was another matter." "How many times did you pay the room-rent when I was strapped? How many times did your money pull me through when I'd have had to quit and forfeit my degree because I couldn't earn enough to keep on?" "That's different. You earned enough finally to square up. You don't owe me anything." "I owe you the gratitude for the friendly hand that put me in the way of earning--that kept me going when the going was rank. Besides, the conditions are just reversed now; you'll do just as I did--make good in the world and, when it's convenient, to me. As for living here, you're perfectly welcome." "I know it--and more," Duncan assented a little wearily. "Don't think I don't appreciate all you've done for me. But I know and you must understand that I can't keep on living on you,--and I won't." For once baffled, Kellogg stared at him in consternation. Duncan met his gaze steadily, strong in the sincerity of his attitude. At length Kellogg surrendered, accepting defeat. "Well...." He shrugged uncomfortably. "If you insist ..." "I do." "Then that's settled." "Yes, that's settled." "Dinner," said Robbins from the doorway, "is served." III INSPIRATION "Look here, Nat," demanded Kellogg, when they were half way through the meal, "do you mind telling me what you're going to do?" Duncan pondered this soberly. "No," he replied in the end. Kellogg waited a moment, but his guest did not continue. "What does that kind of a 'No' mean, Nat?" "It means I don't mind telling you." Again an appreciable pause elapsed. "Well, then, what do you mean to do?" "I'm sure I don't know."